


Call and Answer

by Saki101



Series: Other Experiments [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Episode Related, M/M, The Great Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-24
Updated: 2012-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-31 16:18:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/346060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saki101/pseuds/Saki101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Attempting to duplicate an experiment, without proper notes from the first experiment, is potentially dangerous.</p><p>Excerpt:  They sat facing one another in front of the cold hearth.  Sherlock's violin caterwauled.</p><p>Mycroft winced and saw Sherlock take note and smile.  "Of course, you wouldn't want to do anything in the <i>usual</i> way, would you?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call and Answer

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of the [Other Experiments Series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/15644.html) which works as a prologue to the [Experiments Series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/15016.html), where it functions as an AU lens which changes the perception of those stories. _Other Experiments_ may also be read separately as an AU series.

“You know we _can_ procreate in the usual way,” Mycroft said, his lip curling slightly on the penultimate word. “The great boon of the experiment.”

They sat facing one another in front of the cold hearth. Sherlock’s violin caterwauled.

Mycroft winced and saw Sherlock take note and smile. “Of course, you wouldn’t want to do anything in the _usual_ way, would you?” 

Sherlock’s bow hovered above the strings of his violin. Mycroft acknowledged the threat with the faintest elevation of one eyebrow.

“Usual for whom?” Sherlock sneered. The violin shrieked.

Mycroft had steeled himself for the sound. “Is he already changing?”

The front door banged. John called out Sherlock’s name as he ran up the stairs. “Yes,” Sherlock replied and held Mycroft’s gaze. 

One slow blink of Mycroft’s eyes served instead of a nod. A moment later, he pointed out that John had slept on Sarah's sofa. It was unlikely Sherlock would ever admit to anything as plebeian as jealousy, which meant it would catch him unawares. It was a distracting emotion and Mycroft preferred his brother to concentrate, especially on the matters he brought to his attention. Mycroft could only speculate what jealousy would feel like in the situation Sherlock had created. There was a reason no one had tried fusion for generations in their family and they were not a faint-hearted line.

 

“Perhaps you can get through to him, John,” Mycroft began. If Sherlock was determined to create this weakness for himself, Mycroft saw no reason why he shouldn’t exploit it. He watched John’s face as he took in the spread of the debris, understood how easily Sherlock could have been seriously injured or worse. “My brother can be very intransigent.”

Despite John’s bewildered look when Mycroft handed him the file, Mycroft carried on explaining the top secret case. John’s position carried privileges as well as risks and the acknowledgement of John’s status was sure to soften Sherlock’s intransigence at least a little.

********* 

John held out his phone. “It’s your brother. He’s texting me now.”

Mycroft watched through the activated camera on the phone, listened through the microphone.

Sherlock’s face remained impassive, but the gesture still had its effect. He sent his best man to Mycroft. 

********* 

When John said that Sherlock had sent him to collect facts about the Andrew West case, Mycroft didn’t even try to suppress his smile. He simply entrusted John with even more classified information, marvelled that John didn’t question the role he was being allowed to play and smiled again at the feeble lie John told about how actively Sherlock was working on the problem. This time, Mycroft didn’t comment aloud on the display of loyalty. It had, after all, manifested itself within hours of John’s first exposure to Sherlock at Bart’s. Mycroft narrowed his eyes as he watched John taking notes. Could the process have begun before that meeting? Could Sherlock have drawn John across Dr Stamford’s path?

John looked up again. Mycroft continued speaking and analysing. John was very good at appearing innocuous, Mycroft conceded. It was the best kind of camouflage an operative could have. Warily, Mycroft touched two fingertips to the skin below his lip. Stepping around his desk, he opened a cabinet and set out two glasses and a water bottle while he narrated. He walked back and handed John a glass, watched him drink before opening one of the pill bottles on the desk and washing down two capsules. Mycroft hated to give in to pain.

********* 

“So, are they related, Dr Stamford?” Mycroft asked. He was leaning against the laboratory table, turning the handle of his umbrella rhythmically to the right and back as he waited.

Mike leafed between the top two pages of DNA analysis for the hair and epithelium samples Mycroft had provided, then settled on the lab stool and spread several more pages out in front of him. “The proportions are wrong,” Mike replied. “Some of the skin cells were almost identical to the hair cells, others had few similarities, but the proportions are wrong in all of them and each of the skin cells was different.” Mike's exhalation lifted the corner of one sheet of paper. “There is definitely shared genetic material, cousins…second cousins might be closest, but there are no kinship categories that fit any of these.” Mike was shaking his head as he turned to Mycroft, who was staring at his phone, his other hand still on the handle of his umbrella. “How many people were these skin samples taken from?” 

Mycroft slipped his phone back in his pocket and cast his eye about the laboratory. “Is that the incinerator?” he asked, pointing to the corner of the room with the tip of his umbrella. Mike looked over his shoulder and nodded. Mycroft plucked a hair off his jacket sleeve and let it drift to the floor.

************** 

Mycroft closed the file about the fake Vermeer and opened the surveillance log for John’s mobile. Patterns. One always searched for patterns. He didn’t like the repetition of that one name. 

Few others understood the desire for secrecy better than Mycroft did, but some days he wished more details had been recorded as to the mechanics of the experiment. The chair leather creaked as Mycroft leaned back. He wondered who else Sherlock might have pulled into his dark orbit.


End file.
